<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>On the Tip of His Tongue by Laeviss</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26396863">On the Tip of His Tongue</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laeviss/pseuds/Laeviss'>Laeviss</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Wranduin Week 2020 [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft - Various Authors</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Confessions, Flirting, M/M, Secrets, Timeless Isle, Truth or Dare, Wranduin Week 2020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:34:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,234</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26396863</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laeviss/pseuds/Laeviss</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Wrathion and Anduin play a truth-telling game to pass the hours on the Timeless Isle, making increasingly personal confessions as the competition gets fiercer and emotions start to run high. Written for Wranduin Week Day 4: Free! (Secrets)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Wrathion/Anduin Wrynn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Wranduin Week 2020 [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1914982</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>On the Tip of His Tongue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sunlight streamed through the red canvas peak of Wrathion’s tent, at the same angle and intensity as when it had jostled him awake hours before. Its stare relentless, and its face wide, it bored into his back as he leaned in to cross his legs and place a blue-and-white porcelain bowl between his knees. He reached to his neck and tucked in a few stray curls that had escaped the wrap of his turban, then set his eyes upon Anduin.</p><p>The unabating sun caught a blush blossoming on the human’s cheeks. “So all we do—” Anduin gestured to the handful of thin red chilies piled in the center of the bowl “—is tell a secret, and our opponent, or, well, <i>you,</i> have to eat one of these?”  </p><p>“Correct.” Wrathion laced his fingers in his lap, stretching out his left leg to curl and uncurl his toes. Their pointed black nails caught the glare of the sun, drawing Anduin’s gaze for a moment while he furrowed his brow in thought. </p><p>After a pause, he returned his eyes to Wrathion’s face, and they narrowed; a smile twitched at the corners of his lips. “And you promise dragons aren’t immune to spices?”</p><p>“Why on earth would we be immune to spice?” Wrathion replied, plucking a pepper and holding it up to the light. “You do realize their heat stems from a chemical, yes? It isn’t as if they are made of fire itself!”</p><p>“I know, I know.” The words tumbled from Anduin’s lips. He hugged his knees to his chest, shifting and dropping his legs to the side. His heel jostled Wrathion’s outstretched calf, but the human swiftly corrected to create some distance. </p><p>Wrathion arched a brow. Anduin chuckled, shaking his head, and continuing, “It just seems like a strange suggestion, is all.”</p><p>“Would you rather go back to staring at the clouds, my dear?”</p><p>“Well...no.” The prince sighed. He glanced down at the bowl and back into Wrathion’s eyes, before scooting in with his lips set in a determined line. “All right, I’ll go first.”</p><p>“Very well.” Wrathion smiled. After a quick glance behind him to ensure the tent flap was fully laced, he re-crossed his legs and leaned in with his elbows propped against his knees. His shoulders relaxed; he stared into Anduin’s eyes. “Regale me.”</p><p>Anduin choked. Glancing slightly left of Wrathion’s head, he smoothed back his bangs, and muttered, “It would be easier if you weren’t looking at me like <i>that</i>, you know.” Wrathion opened his mouth to inquire, but Anduin didn’t give him time to jump in. </p><p>He twisted a strand of blond hair around his index finger and murmured, with a lightness Wrathion might have mistaken for a giggle. “All right, okay. Here’s one: I hate porridge.” </p><p>The tension that had curled in the pit of Wrathion’s stomach unfurled and slackened. His jaw dropped, and his thick brows shot up beneath the brim of his turban. He repeated, lingering on every word, searching for the point where he had misunderstood. “You. Hate...porridge?”</p><p>“Yes,” Anduin’s voice rose in pitch. He puffed out his chest, the heels of his hands digging into the blanket behind him. “And it’s really inconvenient, to tell you the truth. After the <i>incident</i>, my father’s attendants shoved porridge down my throat, and I was in too many bandages to tell them no. Then, I get to the Tavern and it’s the exact same thing.”</p><p>“But you always ate it,” Wrathion pointed out. His fingers dipped back into the bowl, closing around the same pepper he had discarded a few moments before.</p><p>“Of course.” The human glanced at the dragon’s hand, an exasperated smile lighting the flush on his cheeks. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t hate it. Anyways, that’s my secret. Go on.”</p><p>“Yes, yes,” Wrathion flicked his wrist, the tiny pepper swinging between his thumb and first finger. Tilting back his head to mimic the pandaren he had witnessed playing the game at Tong’s table, he swept his hand up and clamped his teeth into the pepper’s waxy skin beneath its crown. He tugged. </p><p>For a moment, a subtle sweetness filled his mouth. He twirled the stem in his fingers and snickered, then gulped. His tongue’s reflex rolled the pepper upwards. Tiny seeds burst from their casing, and the burn—acute, acidic, <i>agonizing</i>—tore into everything it touched. </p><p>Lips numb, teeth clenching, wetness prickling at the corners of his crimson eyes, he swallowed and mustered a smile that ached to his ears. “Ah, yes.” He cleared his throat, then tried again. “I suppose this is me.”</p><p>Anduin stole a glance towards the stem Wrathion had dropped in the bowl, nodding, once, as he rolled back his shoulders. “Yup.”</p><p>“All right.” Wrathion templed his fingers. “Let’s see.” His mind flickered between impossibilities, then browsed through a list of more mundane embarrassments. He settled on the first one that didn’t make the muscles of his lower back tense. </p><p>Smacking his lips, he tapped his nails against the curve of his knee, and explained, “I pride myself in my fluency in all the languages native to Azeroth, as you know, but that is where my knowledge ends. Orcish I learned on my own, from Left, and it came quite easily. Draenei, on the other hand…” He chuckled. “Well, it would be fine, I suppose, if not for those Light-cursed ‘rr’s. What a dreadful sound! My tongue simply refuses to make that motion. I’m sure you haven’t noticed, but—”</p><p>“Oh, I’ve noticed.” </p><p>“You what—?” Wrathion stopped. His forehead creased. He cast his gaze on the twinkle in Anduin’s eye. “You’re joking.”</p><p>The human shook his head, fiddling with the black-and-white cuff of his gold silk sleeve. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, though, Wrathion. I mean, I can’t really do it either and I <i>lived</i> with them.”</p><p>With every word of reassurance, the warmth at the nape of Wrathion’s neck climbed nearer to his face. Tossing the loose end of his turban over his shoulder with a flick of his head, he gestured to the bowl with an open palm. “Your pepper awaits, your Highness.”</p><p>“That wasn’t much of a secret, Wrathi—”</p><p>“Ah,” the dragon held up his hand. “No. It was every bit the secret you offered. Now.” He nudged the bowl closer to Anduin’s tucked-under legs. “I suggest swallowing it whole, if you can manage. The seeds are rather insufferable.” </p><p>The human prince exhaled, plunging his hand in to produce a long, thin red pepper. He held it before his face, shaking his head, then tipping it back as Wrathion had done. “All right,” he muttered, before shoving it between his teeth and biting it loose. </p><p>Flinging his head forward, he swallowed, audibly. For a moment, no other sound escaped his lips. Then, as if crawling out of the shudder that rocked his shoulders, one gasp after another issued from his mouth. His hands flew to his neck. His cheeks reddened, and he coughed, high and tortured: “Ah!”</p><p>Wrathion’s smirk relaxed. Crossing his arms, he waited. Anduin patted at the blanket behind him, then tossed the fabric to the side. When he wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, his fingers were empty. </p><p>Wrathion spread his legs to either side of Anduin’s body, and mused, “Looking for something?” </p><p>“Were they playing this game with beer, Wrathion?” </p><p>“Well, yes.” He conceded, wrapping his hand around the bowl and drawing it between his thighs. </p><p>“And you didn’t think to bring water?” </p><p>“I didn’t think it would be necessary. I suppose I should have thought to accomodate the delicate mortal tongue.” </p><p>“Just—” With a cough, Anduin ruffled his hair. He blinked, wrinkling his nose, and muttering, hoarsely. “Okay. It’s my turn.”</p><p>“Indeed, it is.”</p><p>“Okay.” After the human wiped his face and relaxed his shoulders, he started in a calmer tone, “When I was ten years old, I was visiting Ironforge on my father’s behalf. I was so focused on making a good impression that I accidentally put my spoon in my pocket. I noticed it when I went to my room and undressed for bed, but I was too ashamed to take it back, so I..." He cringed. "Stole it.”</p><p>He lowered his clear blue eyes, and sighed. Wrathion quirked a brow. </p><p>“In any case, the longer I’ve had it, the harder it’s gotten to give it back. I keep it in my dresser at the Keep. Honestly, I don’t think there’s any way to return it now.”</p><p>Wrathion fought to keep his laugh from escaping his throat. “A spoon?” He tried.</p><p>“Yes, a silver one.” Anduin lifted his head. His solemn lips spread into an awkward smile, and he added, to defend his upset, “It’s very nice. It’s not the kind of thing princes should be stealing.”</p><p>“But it’s just a spoon.”</p><p>“Yes, from King Bronzebeard’s personal collection.” </p><p>“Oh, Anduin,” Wrathion teased. “Just throw it out and be done with it. The dwarves are your father’s subjects.”</p><p>“Our allies,” he corrected. “And, no. I need to give it back.”</p><p>“People pleasing again, I see.” The dragon waved his hand and reached into the bowl to pick out a smaller pepper. He pressed it to his lips, not breaking eye contact. “If we are to speak of things that are 'not much of a secret,’ your tendency to make too much of matters like this should be at the top of the list.”</p><p>The human opened his mouth. Wrathion continued without pause, “And yet, I am intent on holding to my commitment. Now, excuse me a moment.”</p><p>With an inhale, he bit the pepper, and swallowed as he had instructed Anduin. At first, the lingering prickle on his tongue dulled the pain, but when it hit his throat, the muscles contracted around it. His esophagus throbbed all the way through its treacherous descent. </p><p>Darting a hand to his chest, he yanked at his ruby brooch, gasping as cool air flooded beneath his collar. Deep lines formed between his eyes. Biting down on his lower lip, he sought to focus on his breath, but he couldn’t find it through the blood rushing in his ears. The world lurched. </p><p>Anduin’s clear voice penetrated the throb. “I think it might be worse, the swallowing it whole thing.”</p><p>Wrathion grit his teeth. “...Perhaps.” He conceded.</p><p>Anduin sat for a moment, then inclined his head in Wrathion’s direction. His words were gentle, but a smug grin played on his cheeks.  “Anyways,” he pointed out. “I think it’s your turn.”</p><p>“So it is.” Tucking his hands into his lap, he stared, unfocused, at a speckle of motes in the sun above Anduin’s head. He proclaimed the first thing that rose to his lips:</p><p>“Here is a real confession for you, my dear prince.” Blinking, he rubbed between his eyes and went on at a lower pitch, “When I first arrived at the Tavern, I had no idea what kind of business Madam Goya conducted in those rooms upstairs.”</p><p>He lowered his hand. Anduin stared at him blankly. “...Business?” He asked. </p><p>Wrathion’s slit pupils retracted. “You didn’t know?” He leaned forward. Excitement and triumph ebbed at the corners of every word. </p><p>“You mean the marketplace? The mounts, and—”</p><p>“Mounts may be one way to put it, yes.” Wrathion shrugged, but when the words reached the space between them, his cheeks darkened a few shades. </p><p>Anduin’s face brightened to match. “Oh, ah. That kind of business.” He whispered, stared desperately at the bowl. His fingers uncurled, but when he touched the waxy pile of peppers, he whispered, unprompted, “I bought a magazine once, when none of my servants were looking. You know. <i>That</i> kind of magazine.”</p><p>“Men or women?” Wrathion tilted his chin, cupping his goateed chin in his palms. </p><p>Anduin snatched back his empty hand. “Excuse me?”</p><p>“Men or women?” The dragon repeated, with a high quiver at the end of the question that sent his blush to the tips of his pointed ears. He didn’t look away, however; his red eyes searched Anduin’s face as he scooted closer. </p><p>The human bristled and arched his back, his arms reaching for the blanket behind him. “Why...do you—?” He began, but shook his head. “Nevermind. It’s men. I’m—”</p><p>Anduin stopped. The dragon sprung forward, his palms splaying at either side of the human’s knees. “Now there is a real confession!" He exclaimed. "Excellent work, your Highness!” </p><p>Glancing down, he caught Anduin’s chest rising and falling. His brooch swung, grazing Anduin’s tabard before brushing the bare skin at the base of his throat. </p><p>Wrathion’s heart clenched, and, sliding back, he wiped his palms on his silk-clad thighs. Sweat prickled beneath the brim of his turban. “Forgive me,” he mumbled with a slight flick of his wrist. His black nails shone in the unyielding sun. “In any case, it seems, in our mutual excitement, we forgot to take our peppers. Perhaps this time we can do it in unison.”</p><p>Anduin averted his eyes. The groan that left his lips shook the stale air under their tent. “Or we could agree the peppers are unnecessary and leave them to the pandaren.”</p><p>“Ah-ah, no, no, my dear.” Wrathion crooked the end of his finger and gingerly selected a chili from the top of the heap. “The rules about this are crystal clear, I’m afraid.”</p><p>“I think you’re enjoying this a bit too much.”</p><p>“The chance to see you sweat and turn red? I would never!” Wrathion smirked as he brought it to his tongue. “Who would relish in finding the crown prince in such a compromising position? Not I, of course.”</p><p>“Of course.” Rolling his eyes and wrinkling his nose, Anduin took a pepper. They popped them in their mouths, coughing and sputtering and blinking back tears as they went down. After a few smoky breaths from Wrathion and a hiss that leaked between Anduin’s gritting teeth, the latter leaned back and stared at the pole to the left of Wrathion’s shoulder. </p><p>“Okay. It’s your turn.”</p><p>“So it is,” Wrathion repeated. Rolling up his sleeves, he undid first his sash, then the identically-patterned silk holding his turban in place. He unwound the cloth and shook loose his curls, brushing them back, and wiping his brow with his palm. </p><p>His gaze wandered to the canvas slope overhead, and he shrugged, addressing it smoothly, “One true confession deserves another, I suppose, and here is mine. I have never kissed anyone before. Not for any lack of offers, but because I fear my teeth—” he ran his tongue across the sharp row of points— “May be off-putting. A ‘turn-off,’ as I have heard the mortals say.”</p><p>“No,” Anduin replied. His soft voice faded under the rustle of fabric as he scooted closer. “Not at all. I think they look—”</p><p>“Dreadful?”</p><p>“—Nice.”</p><p>“Oh.” Wrathion balked. His jaw slacked, but he snapped it closed, fiddling with the tip of his goatee. “I see.” Silence descended, only to be interrupted by the gentle thud of Anduin’s heart and his palpable grimace as he popped another pepper into his mouth.</p><p>The dragon didn’t match his gesture, his grin melting from his lips. He pressed his pointed nail into his chin. Inhaling, then exhaling another puff, he confessed, punctuating the breath: “I have killed people, you realize. Several people, in fact.”</p><p>“I—” Anduin hesitated, licking and biting his lower lip. The blush faded from his cheeks. “I’ve heard the rumors.”</p><p>“A red dragon who wanted to take me hostage, and an uncle of mine consumed by my father’s madness.”</p><p>“To protect yourself?” Anduin leaned to the side, his palm digging into the blanket between them. </p><p>“Well, yes,” Wrathion chose his words carefully. “In a sense.”</p><p>“All right.” The prince’s bangs swayed about his headband as he nodded and tucked in his chin. “Okay. Thank you for telling me.” The tip of his tongue pressed against his teeth as if he intended to say more.</p><p>Wrathion lowered his hands, drawing back his shoulders as something clenched around his heart. He closed his eyes. A chill prickled at the base of his sweat-soaked scalp. Finally, Anduin shattered the deafening silence. </p><p>“My father doesn’t know you’re here with me. I lied. I made my guards swear not to mention your name. I didn’t want to lie to my father, but I wanted to be with you, and I—”</p><p>“Do you still want to be with me, my dear?”</p><p>“Yes!” Anduin exclaimed, followed by a quieter. “Yes. Of course.”</p><p>Scooping up the bowl and rising onto his knees to set it down off the bed mat, Wrathion returned a few inches closer. A small smile twitched at the corners of his lips as he tugged at a loose loop in his blanket’s gold embroidery. </p><p>Anduin’s knee brushed against the side of his foot, and he glanced up, the thread still hooked between his nails. “Ah, yes, it’s my turn, is it not?”</p><p>The human replied with a tiny nod that made his heart flutter. The pit of his stomach rolled, tugging at his lower abdomen. His tongue parched in his mouth. </p><p>“Hm, very well.” He dwelt a moment on every sound. “Here is mine: Being near you makes me feel…strange.”</p><p>Anduin’s brows rose. He pulled in his left ankle, and asked, “Good strange?”</p><p>“Very good strange,” Wrathion admitted. A quiver crept up the curls stuck to the back of his neck. </p><p>The human crossed his hands over his wrists. His breath hitched, and he chuckled, high and strained, “That’s...a really funny way to put it, you know.”</p><p>The dragon flushed. He opened his mouth; Anduin hugged his arms tighter to his chest. </p><p>“But, ah, I understand what you mean. I— Wrathion, I—I’ve been wondering—”</p><p>Anduin’s voice leapt. He gasped, his gaze flying to a rotund shadow that had appeared at the entrance of their tent. The canvas rustled, the lacings holding it closed quivering and knocking together. </p><p>Wrenching his stare from Anduin’s face, Wrathion dug his palms into the bedmat and turned to find a large green eye peeking in through the gap his pawing had created. </p><p>“Boys?” Farmer Fung rumbled. “You’ve been in here for two hours, at least. Is everything all right?” </p><p>Rolling to the side, Wrathion crawled forward a few paces, grabbing the ends of the ties and yanking them loose. The flap peeled back to reveal a round white-and-gray face and a friendly smile that faded the moment the pandaren glimpsed the porcelain bowl. </p><p>“My peppers!” He exclaimed. “Those were to be for the hot pot! I wondered where they had gotten off to.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Anduin scrambled to Wrathion’s side, scooping it up and holding it out to the cook. “Sorry, we only ate a couple.”</p><p>“A couple less for our soup this evening.” With a huff, Fung snatched the chilies and shook his head. Anduin shot Wrathion a frown, and Wrathion responded by shrugging and leaning against the curve of his elbow. </p><p>As Fung grumbled and disappeared back into the courtyard, Anduin glanced at their point of contact, and his cheeks shone red in the noonday sun. He inhaled, opening his mouth and wordlessly uncrossing his arms.</p><p>The pads of his fingers brushed Wrathion’s wrist. They traveled down his palm, clammy and flushed, then hooked over his knuckles. The tips of Wrathion’s nails curled inward, and he squeezed, gently. A knowing smile, laden with secrets, passed from one prince to the other.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>